


you can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

by bardingbeedle



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22510552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardingbeedle/pseuds/bardingbeedle
Summary: He’s got self-control, and even if all he wants to do is manhandle Steve onto his back, sit on his lap and massage his shoulders and give him fuckingbutterfly kisseson his cheeks, he won’t. At least, not yet and not all at the same time.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	you can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](https://bardingbeedle.tumblr.com/post/189388976548/elcorhamletlive-bardingbeedle-elcorhamletlive) on tumblr.

They’re taking it slow.

Well, at least in the physical sense. Tony thinks he couldn’t have gone even one week into their relationship without blurting out how much he loved Steve, and Tony’s mind is still reeling at the fact that he can say it. Outloud. To Steve! It’s incredible. 

He loves Steve so much, and sure, he felt the anxiety and fear start to creep out from his chest, tendrils of coldness edging out slowly in the second and a half Steve took to respond with enthusiastic reciprocation, but Tony tries to forget that. It’s easy, actually. Steve’s low voice telling Tony how much he loves him, too, is enough to make Tony forget his own name. It’s great. They’re great.

Everything’s fairly new, though. And it makes Tony want to run algorithms and draw out blueprints and outlines and _lists_ because where do you start? Or where do you end? He feels a rush of excitement and anxiety and giddiness whenever he leans in gingerly for a kiss (which Steve always obliges). He wonders sometimes if he should ask for those kisses. Is that a thing? Does he need to fill out a form? Steve likes rules and procedure, right? Maybe he needs to look into that. 

Sometimes Tony finds himself staring at Steve, which is not an entirely new activity, but in this case he does it while feeling a different sort of twinge in his chest. He kind of wants to reach out sometimes, when he’s sitting right by Steve. To run a hand through his hair, brush a stray eyelash off his cheek, curl a hand around his bicep and rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. He knows, logically, he’s allowed to want and even do these things. They’re in a relationship, and it’s not as if they never touched platonically prior to getting together. They even sleep in the same bed now, for god’s sake. It’s just that, Tony feels like everything means _something_ now, something so very important, and he doesn’t want to do anything that might…hurt this.

So Tony takes things slow. With Steve, who is also taking things slow. He doesn’t want to do anything like rush things, like run over to Steve and paw at him until he’s red and bruised (not sexually. But also maybe sexually). He’s got self-control, and even if all he wants to do is manhandle Steve onto his back, sit on his lap and massage his shoulders and give him fucking _butterfly kisses_ on his cheeks, he won’t. At least, not yet and not all at the same time. 

When Tony walks into their bedroom one night, though, he becomes pretty close to throwing all this out the window. 

Actually, fuck it. He’s right there on the edge of that cliff. 

But who wouldn’t be when Steve looks like that? Steve, who is sitting on the bed, socked feet planted on the floor, toes curling on the carpet, documents and folders and envelopes spread out across his lap and the mattress, his two hands curled around a pair of files, frowning that frown that tells Tony he’s not only upset, he’s _disappointed_.

He’s still in his uniform, the cowl pulled back and the top pulled open and down slightly. His hair is a mess and sticking up in different directions, which is probably because he pushed the cowl back in a huff. His shoulders are tight, drawn up, and his back is stiff. His arms are flexed, coiled, looking very powerful and rigid. The knuckles of his hands are not quite white, but enough to show that he’s gripping those files pretty tight. The bags under his eyes are dark, and his lips are turned down so far, his forehead wrinkled, eyebrows clenched in, jaw stiff. He doesn’t even realize Tony’s walked in. Though more likely, he knows Tony has walked in, he just can’t tear himself away from what he’s worrying about. 

Tony feels his hands twitch, his feet taking one, two, three steps forward on their own. He feels a deep, heavy ache in his chest, spreading all the way down to his fingers and toes, making them tingle. His mouth opens and moves wordlessly, he feels like he’s parched. 

“Steve?” he manages. 

Steve exhales. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says. Tony has never heard Steve call him ‘sweetheart’ in a stiffer tone. Tony knows he’s not the problem here and that Steve doesn’t mean it _that_ way, but it still sends something uncomfortable down his spine. 

“You okay?” 

Steve slowly lowers the files and closes his eyes. “Yeah, honey,” he says, in a softer, more normal tone. “Yeah, I - sweetheart, I’m sorry. Are you, did you have dinner yet?” 

Tony wants to laugh a little bit, because of course. Of course Steve would be worrying about Tony even while he’s coiled tighter than a bed spring. 

“I did, I had a late lunch, early dinner, you know,” Tony licks his lips. “How about you, apple pie?” 

Steve smiles a little at that. “There were leftovers in the fridge, cleaned off the Chinese from last night,” he shifts a little on the bed, jaw tensing. He runs a hand through his hair and drops it hard enough that it bounces off the bed a little bit, crumping a few of the papers. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, babe,” Tony moves closer, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it over the side of the bed that wasn’t covered in documents. “Looks like you’ve got a kind of system going on here, huh?” 

Steve hums, eyes darting around him for a few, quick seconds before looking up at Tony, expression tired and a little bit sad. 

“Anything wrong? A crisis, Avengers business, maybe a big green monster?” Tony says, his joke falling flat. “You know we can tackle anything the universe wants to throw at us, right, babe?” 

Steve hums again. “It’s just…” he starts. He glances down at the papers on his lap before looking back up at Tony again, eyes pleading. He’s silent for a few long seconds. “Sometimes I just think, maybe, I’m not…maybe I wasn’t meant to be-” 

Tony doesn’t let Steve finish. He walks in large strides over to Steve, plants himself on Steve’s lap, uncaring of the documents he’s crumpling and ruining by doing so, and gently cups Steve’s face in his hands the way he’s been wanting to for what seems like his entire life.

Fuck going slow. He can’t- he can’t stand there and listen to Steve feel like he’s not- he can’t. He’s just, nobody is allowed to make Steve feel that way, _even Steve_. He thinks, knows that Steve is so good and great and just, he’s everything and he’s wonderful and kind and he smells so good, he makes the best pasta and makes Tony feel so warm inside and he’s the best thing Tony has ever held in his hands. He’s the best thing.

Tony feels Steve’s hands curl around his hips, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and mouth slightly open, a question on the tip of his tongue, but Tony doesn’t linger on Steve’s expression too much because he’s focused on running his thumbs across Steve’s cheekbones. His hands slide down Steve’s face, then upward into his hair. Tony digs his nails in a little bit, and feels something settle in his chest when Steve’s eyes flutter close. 

Tony leans in and kisses Steve chastely on the lips, pressing more, moving away slowly to his cheeks, his jawline, the tip of his nose, his eyelids, the crease between his eyebrows. Tony peppers kisses all over Steve’s face until he feels Steve’s hands loosen around his waist, his shoulders go loosening in increments, his face going slack and soft. He runs his hands all over Steve’s hair, mussing it up even more, down the back of Steve’s neck and the top of his spine, massaging his shoulders lightly. Tony’s knees tighten around Steve’s thighs, and he presses himself closer to Steve’s chest, matching his breathing with Steve’s. 

Tony feels dizzy. He’s surrounded by Steve, the feel of Steve’s skin under his fingers, the smell of Steve, the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat. He feels himself relaxing, going pliant, the way Steve does under his touches and kisses. It feels perfect. He never wants to stop. 

They stay like that for a long while, Tony playing with Steve’s hair, exchanging slow, sweet kisses, Steve’s arms around Tony. 

Eventually, Steve brings his hands up to frame Tony’s face between them, thumbs running over his cheeks, his goatee. “Tony, I - god,” he smiles, a real one, eyes darting across Tony’s face. “God, Tony, I love you so much. You just, you have no idea, what you do, you’re, _god_. I love you. So much, Tony.” 

Tony swallows, breathing in shakily. “I love you, too. Steve.” He feels like the words aren’t really enough, but it’s all he’s got. 

With the way Steve’s smile grows, though, Tony thinks he’s getting his message across pretty well.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post here!](https://bardingbeedle.tumblr.com/post/190680337618/bardingbeedle-i-got-really-soft-about-this)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3


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